Ch Ch Changes
by Elle Em
Summary: A look at why Greg didn’t have much to say in the season 8 episode entitled: You Kill Me. NICK/GREG Slash SARA/GREG Friendship -First Fic- R&R welcome!


**Ch-Ch-Changes**

Summary: A look at why Greg didn't have much to say in the season 8 episode entitled: You Kill Me.

Slight spoilers for: The Chick Chop Flick Shop, You Kill Me

Disclaimer: NOT MINE! CSI belongs to CBS, Mr. Jerry Bruckheimer, yadda yadda yadda. But I truly, deeply, wish it _were_ mine...Le sigh! 

* * *

_Hey there Delilah  
What's it like in New York City?  
I'm a thousand miles away  
But girl, tonight you look so pretty  
Yes you do  
Times Square can't shine as bright as you  
I swear it's true_

For some odd reason the song kept repeating itself in an endless cycle in his mind. He had been listening to it on the way to work, and now it looked like it was here to stay. The radio station had been changed by his passenger, the last time they had been in his Jetta, but he hadn't bothered to change it back to his favourite one that played the usual rock music that he so fervently listened to. And now, four hours into his shift, he _still_ couldn't get the song out of his head.

**3 weeks ago…**

_Man, Nick better totally make it up to me or I'm going to kick his sweet ass for this. I can't __**believe **__the one time I let him trade a case…ok, maybe this is the third or fourth time, but that's beside the point. The point is he hits the jackpot, getting a case involving a murdered actress (OMG Weatherly Adams!), while I get stuck with a boring B&E! Howwas that fair!_

He had continued to rant about the unfairness of the world, and about the fine assed Texan who (it seemed) could cajole and reduce him to putty in the hands (all without lifting a finger) until he caved and gave Nick whatever he wanted. He mentally slapped himself one more time while he walked towards the locker room and noticed a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches in front of the lockers.

He missed her a lot since she had moved to Swing, and he barely got to see her anymore. They used to hangout quite a bit when the team had been split and she was paired up with him for most of their cases. He loved the fact that he had gotten the chance to know the _real_ Sara, the one he had only a glimpse of as a Lab Rat, the one he was _now_ proud to call a friend and confidante…a friend that he hadn't had a chance to see, let alone hang out with, for awhile.

"What's up?" he leaned against the doorway while casually inquiring about her day. She seemed deep in thought, like she was trying to figure out the meaning of life or the mystery behind the universe. For a moment he considered repeating his question, thinking she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to have heard him, but she suddenly looked up with a perplexed expression on her face. 

"You know, in the slasher movies…when they go after the dark-haired girl, she always dies?" So, she'd heard him after all. The choice of topic to this conversation however, took him by surprise. She seemed genuinely concerned about her observation…and suddenly, it hit him.

"Yeah…and the blond always lives" he decided to sit down to get closer to her, if only to assure himself that _yes_, she was alive and _yes,_ she was talking to him and_ no,_ she most certainly was not six feet underground like he had once feared she might end up. 

His sudden anxiety about what she was going through at the moment, mixed with the relief that she was indeed alive and breathing was expressed with a rushed, "Well, aren't you glad it wasn't a movie?" And he once again slapped himself mentally as he heard her sadly chuckle at the irony. His smile slipping, he internally winced at his own tactlessness; he knew Sara valued honesty above anything else, but this was not the way to comfort her. He wished he knew how to bring the old Sara back...it sounded a bit selfish, but he needed his best friend back, the woman who would tirelessly listen to his rants about how much he hated Nick for having such adrool-worthyass, acting so loveable, and being so unattainable! The first woman, after his Mum and Nana Olaf, whom he had discovered that he loved and respected more than he could ever believe possible. The _only_ woman he had fallen in love with at first sight, his infatuation eventually growing into respect, until their bond transcended mere words.

He abruptly cut off his thoughts as she elaborated, "I think, um ... I think I'm sick of having my face shoved in death every day. The murder rate has gone up every year since I've been here. It's totally out of control, and...we're not even slowing them down."

**Present**

_Hey there Delilah  
Don't you worry about the distance  
I'm right there if you get lonely  
Give this song another listen  
Close your eyes  
Listen to my voice, it's my disguise  
I'm by your side_

He had his eyes closed, his head down on the table, it seemed that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on writing up the report on his recent case because the song simply would not stop replaying in his head. A single tear escaped his eyelids, his voice getting a little hoarse as he repeated the refrain out loud in hopes of purging the song out of his mind by expressing it vocally.

Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
What you do to me

He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to get out. He knew he still had a lot of work to do, but it could wait, as his sanity most definitely could not. He quickly wiped the unexpected tears away, picked up his work, shoving the sheets of paper haphazardly into their appropriate folders without pausing to think about what he was doing. Once everything was put away, he walked out of the relative quiet of the closet sized office he was working in. Grissom's quiet "Goodnight Greg" managed to rouse a tired "Yeah, whatever" out of him, as he kept walking single-mindedly towards his goal—the silver Jetta waiting for him in the company parking lot. 

He knew all he had to do was go home, get a good night's sleep with a little help from the wonder drug Xanax—or what he liked to call his own version of Dr. Mom, and he'd be back to normal, fun-loving, happy go lucky Greg. Although, he knew in his heart that he hadn't been that Greg in a long time…_not_ since the explosion, _not_ since he had discovered his first child victim dumped unceremoniously in a trashcan, and certainly _not_ since he had been beaten within an inch of his life. But he _had_ been able to pull it together after each incident, emerging a little bit stronger than he had been before, and slightly more sure of himself and about the man he was becoming. Sure, he didn't see the world through rose-tinted glasses anymore, but he wasn't _completely_ disillusioned with life that he had given up his faith in humanity and its ability to be compassionate. So, why had Sara?

His rambling thoughts abruptly halted with that single question. _Of course! _He started chuckling humorlessly; he should have known that this was all about her. Why he couldn't stop replaying the song, her favourite, the one she had changed the station to listen to while she was in his car last. Why he couldn't stop remembering the sad look in her eyes when she had practically told him that she didn't think she could take working in Vegas anymore, take seeing death day in and day out without making a dent or a slight difference in the system.

_Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me_

He should have been able to see it, should have been able to save her from herself, should have been able to help her…he was her fucking friend dammit! **He** was the one who knew about her affair with Grissom, _way_ before she admitted it out loud to anyone. **He** was the one who gave her advice on which restaurant to take her "mystery" date to for their 6 month anniversary, and **he** was the token gay male best friend who should have been there to catch her when she fell! But, it didn't turn out that way. Then again…it never _did_ in real life. 

Tears were now coursing down his cheeks, uncontrollable and unforgiving, they were blurring his vision as he drove on, but he didn't bother wiping them away as he only knew more would be there soon to replace them. The deafening silence within the car, with only his thoughts to preoccupy him, started grating on his nerves, so he reached over to turn on some "thinking music", as he liked to call it. But it looked like fate was pulling out all the stops today to make sure that he stayed miserable as the smooth stirrings of The Plain White T's once again came through the speakers. With only his dark thoughts and self loathing to accompany him, Greg didn't realize that he had missed the turn which would take him to his house but rather had gone on heading straight for the highway. He just wanted to think, to clear his mind, to sort everything out into manageable parcels in his head and emerge once again as the victor, so that he could once again go on with his life, letting this incident be one more notch on his belt. 

_A thousand miles seems pretty far  
But they've got planes and trains and cars  
I'd walk to you if I had no other way  
Our friends would all make fun of us  
and we'll just laugh along because we know  
That none of them have felt this way  
Delilah I can promise you  
That by the time we get through  
The world will never ever be the same  
And you're to blame_

He couldn't though, he couldn't let go of her, but he didn't want to end up like her either. He came to this conclusion just as he raced past another vehicle, the driver honking his horn furiously for daring to cut him off. This didn't trouble him though; he was too pre-occupied to bother with a disgruntled driver, who was most likely going to end up getting pulled over and fined for speeding, while Greg was probably going to be let off with a gentle warning (if he was stopped at all). 

**No**, he decided, he was definitely _not _going to become Sara. He did not want to let his work consume him to the point where he was going to burn out before his time. He did not want to lead a life with only the discovery channel, his forensic journals, and a police scanner to keep him company. He wanted a life with someone he loved, a house surrounded by a white picket fence, a family to call his own—complete with the 2.5 kids he wanted to love and raise with his partner. He wanted to enjoy life and to make each day as precious as possible. He wanted all of this and more, and he wanted it all with Nick! As this realization hit him, he quickly took the next exit to turn back and head towards the residence of a certain Texan. 

A small ray of hope started to shine through as he realized that maybe his dreams _could_ come true after all, he just had to take that first step to move things along. He took a deep breath to allow himself to acknowledge the fact that Sara, in her wisdom, had realized all of this. That, although she did come to this conclusion quite late, she had figured out that in order for her dreams for a happy future to come true she had to first confront the demons in her past. She had to come to terms with her self, but _it didn't mean that it was too late for her_.

_Hey there Delilah  
You be good and don't you miss me  
Two more years and you'll be done with school  
And I'll be making history like I do  
You'll know it's all because of you  
We can do whatever we want to  
Hey there Delilah here's to you  
This one's for you_

The corners of his lips twisted up slightly, wistfully, as he thought about Sara and wished with all his heart that they would _both_ achieve what they so desperately needed, wanted, were striving for. With this final thought, he let the refrain take over in his head one last time, knowing that Sara, his best friend, his mentor, his confidante…and his saviour, would forever be in his heart as a gentle reminder that it was never too late to change, and _that_ didn't necessarily mean you should wait too long to change either.

_Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
What you do to me._

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A/N: I have no idea where this came from! I've always loved the locker room scene with Sara confiding in Greg (Chick Chop Flick Shop), and this sort of wrote itself when I decided to go back and watch the episode again. I really thought that scene was the only redeeming point in that episode. And I also see those two as being as close as two siblings or best friends could ever be, and this just came from that I guess. Last, but not least, the song "Hey there Delilah" was also a great inspiration! 


End file.
